Enchanter
by Angel Inoshi
Summary: The Viking warlord, Heero Yuy, was wreaking havoc on the Sank Kingdom, and legend claimed the man could not be killed. Sank had only one choice: Send Quatre to turn him into a frog! [1x4, 4x1]
1. Green is Your Color, No Really!

Angel-kun:   
Well Ok as far as I know this will be one of the longest 1x4 AU out there. I could be wrong, but hey I never saw one. Plus it's just a little hint to any author out there who writes 1x4 just what kind of stories I like and such. [Coughs] this also goes for 3x4 author's...sorry I ready to many AU angst and I just want one with a little eh...less err hopeless...or something like that ^_^ N E WAY!   
  
Reasons for writing this:  
  
1. Heero/Quatre fics are usually PWP - there is just a handful that aren't.  
  
2. This couple is cute - admit it...they are  
  
3. Too many 1x2/2x1 and 3x4/4x3 out there - I have nothing against those pairings, but after awhile it does get boring.  
  
4. Wanted to inspire other authors into writing a 1x4 or actually finish there own stories that are in the works.  
  
Pairings:   
1x4 no duh!  
  
Genre:   
Romance / Action Adventure / Parody  
  
Warnings:   
Err rated R and NC-17 in some parts. Yaoi...like you weren't expecting that. AU ALTERNATE UNIVERSE! Maybe OOC for a few people...maybe not.  
  
Disclaimer:   
I OWN NADA! Romance Novel this is based on is Spell Weaver by Roxi Ashe.  
  
Enjoy! ^_^  
  
________________________________________________________________  
  
Enchanter  
By - Angel Inoshi  
  
CHAPTER ONE -   
Green is Your Color...No Really!  
________________________________________________________________  
  
Anyone would die for such a strong love potion. The Mystic Forest had given him the needed herbs to conjure up such a mixture - Monkshood and Wolfs Bane to confuse the mind, also Belladonna and Woodruff to ignite sexual desire, all just only a few ingredients in the brew.  
  
Quatre smiled to himself as he poured the pale blue liquid into a pewter vial. Trying not to breathe in the intoxicating vapors himself, he forced a wooden stopper into the container's mouth. He was a little worried about the combination he had just created and gazed upon the little vial for a few moments. Finally, with a sigh he looked towards the figure sitting across from him.  
  
"Well, Sir J (Dr. J), I think I have it right this time," he said. "This might make her fall in love with you, but I can't make any promises"  
  
"Let me try it, Quatre," Sir J replied, stretching to reach the vial.  
  
Quatre held it away for a brief moment, contemplating the desperate eagerness in the other man's voice. Why did he even bother to raise his hopes? It had seemed so simple at first, but then he slowly began to realize what a huge mistake it was.  
  
"I have to test it first," argued Quatre.  
  
"Test it on yourself? No, if it is lethal, I won't have you die because of my needs."  
  
Quatre gazed at the vial again. "I'm warning you, more than a spoonful of this stuff could end it for you. Why only the Monkshood alone could..."  
  
"I know the risks," Sir J interrupted "and I'll gladly except them for this chance!" He pulled out a coin from his coin purse and laid it on the table. "I have waited three years for this moment, Quatre. I will not pass it up. Let me taste the draft."  
  
"For three years I've created and mixed several potions and still your lady loves another. You should stop your pursuit and stay at the queen's side as her advisor where you belong," snapped Quatre.  
  
Quatre pushed himself out of his chair and looked out of the window. Below he saw the queen's knights practice there sword fights and throw spears through wooden rings. * Sir J should be out there over seeing the training. Why in the world had he come to me? I'm not fit in this deadly art. My sister Iria is the magician in the family. Even if I practiced for a thousand years I still wouldn't get it right. *  
  
"You know I can't understand your faith in me," he said dryly. "My love potions only give you headaches and an empty pocket. I'm sorry to take your money."  
  
"You can have it all! What good is money if the woman I want thinks I'm as attractive as a frog?"  
  
Quatre couldn't say that Sir J was the best looking man, yet he was his only friend in Queen Relena's court. The vial trembled in his hand. He ought to just toss it out the window and promise himself never to make such a thing again.  
  
"I don't like this, Sir J," he argued once again. "You drink too much and I'll never see you again."  
  
"I promise to take only a sip." Smiling he rested a hand on Quatre's shoulder. "You underestimate yourself too much, young mage."  
  
Quatre glanced at the knights below. "I don't trust my skills. You should have gone to Iria."  
  
"Bah! She only cares about the queen. She doesn't have time for an old knight like myself."  
  
"The queen does not deserve such a skilled magician like my sister. Maybe I should be the one making potions for the queen. I doubt anyone would care if I made a few mistakes."  
  
"Quatre, sometimes you can be positively evil, but I do not blame you for it. The queen has her moments, which is most of the time."  
  
"I know I should not say such things. After all if it weren't for her, Iria and I would still be back in Sandrock Keep, just across the boarder from rampaging Vikings."  
  
Sir J grabbed the vial out of Quatre's left hand and dashed out the door calling, "I left my coin purse on the table! Take it!"  
  
"Wait!" Quatre dashed out the door to try and follow, but Sir J was already down the stairs. "Remember to take a sip!"  
  
"What?!"  
  
"A sip you thick headed ninny! If you die, I'll kill you!"  
  
"Right...right! Don't worry I'll remember! Tomorrow I'll marry the love of my life!" shouted Sir J as he vanished from sight.  
  
Quatre stared for a moment then sighed dejectedly, "Idiot."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The next morning, a loud knocking on his chamber door awakened Quatre. Suddenly, the door slammed open as Lady Dorothy stormed in. His sister Iria also rushed in following Dorothy.  
  
"Get up cousin," Dorothy commanded. "The Queen wants to see you in the throne room!"  
  
Scooting against the headboard, Quatre drew the covers over his bare chest. "How dare you burst in through my door unwelcome! Iria what is this all about?"  
  
"Quatre, you are in grave trouble."  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"I'm not sure, but you should hear the commotion down stairs. Oh, Quatre, what have you done?"  
  
"Enough of this! You shall find it soon enough!" snapped Dorothy.   
  
She quickly advanced on Quatre and grabbed him by the arm letting the covers slide off to reveal him only dressed in thin draped white pants tied by a blue sash. Iria followed quickly behind. Quatre was speechless as he was dragged down the main hall. Thoughts of poor Sir J filled his mind. He was brought through the main doors of the lavish throne room, and there he was greeted by shouts from fellow knights of Sir J.  
  
"The demon! Kill him for what he has done!" The knights angrily proclaimed.  
  
"Enough," boomed Queen Relena's voice.  
  
Instantly Quatre kneeled on one knee and bowed his head before Relena. Quiet rained through the hall as Relena gazed intently upon Quatre. Her features were cold for the supposed calm and beautiful queen. A wry smile graced her lips as she spoke.  
  
"Tell me what you have done to Sir J, Quatre."  
  
"I made him a love potion your highness. I did nothing more than that."  
  
"A love potion? Surely you knew you weren't experienced enough to create such a thing. You knew what might have happened." Relena stood up from her throne and walked towards Quatre.  
  
Quatre could hear Iria sob as Relena approached him. "Yes I did your highness."  
  
"Yet, you gave the draft to him. Despite the consequences, you let him have it," Relena said as she lifted her hand high into the air and gave Quatre a slap across the face. "That was for messing about with things you do not understand, but what is to be done with you now, Quatre of Sandrock? Although we are distantly related, I'm not sure what to do with you."  
  
"I await the queen's justice. I do not deny what I have done." Quatre said shutting his eyes tightly.  
  
"You may have risked his life, but you have not killed him." Despite Quatre's astonished face she continued, "However, you have done something to him. Squire, bring Sir J!"  
  
Sir J's squire pushed his way through the crowed. Wet trails streaked down his face as he cradled something in a wool mantle. He bowed in front of Quatre, who had gotten up by this time, and pulled away the mantel to reveal a bullfrog. The frog looked up at Quatre and gave a loud croak.  
  
"Behold your handy work, Quatre. I must say you may have changed him for the better! Your little antics have transformed him into this fine creature."  
  
"I...I...but how could it be? It is not possible! Sir J, what have I done to you?!" Quatre embraced the frog and squeezed it tightly.  
  
The frog let out another huge croak and proceeded to turn blue from lack of air. Relena then grabbed Sir J from Quatre's fierce hug and tossed him back towards the squire. She smiled coolly at Quatre and leaned forward towards his ear.  
  
"I have plans for you, Quatre. This is truly a miracle in disguise. I shall defeat my enemies with this potion, starting with the Viking lord, Heero Yuy of Wing. Come, Quatre to my personal chamber. I will tell you my plan there." 


	2. I Think I'm In Trouble

Quatre: Angel-kun, what are you going to do to me?  
  
Angel: Quatre-san, I won't do anything bad...well anything unnecessary.  
(Smiles and bows)  
I promise Quatre-san...  
(Looks at Heero)  
Heero-san...would you like to announce the next chapter?  
  
Heero: Hai...next chapter  
________________________________________________________________  
  
Enchanter  
By - Angel Inoshi  
  
CHAPTER TWO -  
I Think I'm In Trouble.  
________________________________________________________________  
  
* It was a plan formed in the pits of Hades *, Quatre thought as he rode the path behind his cousin Dorothy. They were five days out of Sank and Dorothy wasn't sure when they would reach the great mountains of Wing. Once they reached their destination, he was to enter Lord Yuy's castle, gain his friendship, and give him the terrible potion. When he was transformed into a frog, he was to kill him.  
  
He vividly remembered the meeting with the queen after he had transformed Sir J. He didn't need to hear her speeches about the threat Heero held; the Wolf of the North had existed in legends all through out his childhood. Mothers told their children that if they didn't behave, the Wolf would pounce down and gobble them up. Iria had told him that very same tale, and now he was about to waltz right into his jaws.  
  
He must not think about his needs. If Treize Khushrenada, the proclaimed leader, and his foul Vikings overran Sank, life would be over anyways. The barbarians didn't spare his father and his men, or any of the thousands of Sanks young and old, male and female, who'd cross their paths over the twelve years since the war began.  
  
But did he have the power to bring down the greatest of Treize's Viking warlords, the all mighty Heero Yuy? How odd fate would put him in this position by a mere fluke. If Sir J had not hungered for love, he would have never brewed the potion. He wouldn't be on the stupid horse, following his witch of a cousin, in the middle of God knows where, on the way to Wing. It all seemed like a prank gone awry.  
  
"Relena must be mad you know," he told Dorothy "all those years of wearing a tight crown must have cut the circulation to her brain; it finally did her in."  
  
Dorothy shifted in her wooden saddle and scowled back at Quatre. "I tire of your constant chatter. Sir J the frog would make a better companion than you. Now shut up!"  
  
"You sound just like Relena, always giving orders and never asking nicely."  
  
"You should respect both the queen and me, Quatre. Besides, if we don't kill Heero this year, he'll rejoin Treize in the spring. How do you think Sank will last when the damned Wolf comes back with a fresh army?"  
  
Shivering, Quatre pulled his wool cloak snugly around him. It was cool this morning, and the colored leaves swayed in the northern winds, but his own shivers had nothing to do with the cold. He touched the small pewter vial against his chest. The fate of all of Sank hung from a cord around his neck.  
  
The Wolf of the North, the name sent chills throughout his whole body. He straightened his back and held his head high. He wasn't afraid. Nope, not one bit, even though they said the Wolf couldn't be killed, that half the Sank army had tried and failed. Nope, he wasn't scared one bit. Everyone was counting on this enchantment. The fates of millions were in his hands.  
  
* I'm not afraid *, Quatre told himself. * I am not afraid; I am . . . completely terrified! Oh crap! What the hell am I doing?! How am I supposed to change a fierce warlord into a frog? I could barely handle what I did to Sir J, and now he has to sleep on a pillow all thanks to me. What am I going to do? I can't possibly face a . . . war god! * He chewed his bottom lip and thought about Lord Yuy. Iria once told him that Heero was often referred to as the Cunning Hunter. He didn't like the sound of that.  
  
He didn't like being forced to kill a man either, enemy or not, but Iria insisted that he obey Relena's wishes. Not only did Sank teeter on the edge of a knife, but also so did all the surrounding lands of the kingdom. Sandrock Keep belonged to Iria and himself, as did the estates farther south. Even Dorothy's mighty fortress was in jeopardy. All would be lost if Treize Khushrenada took the crown of Sank from Relena's head.   
  
Quatre didn't care so much about the lands, but the people farming them. It was his duty to stop Heero in his tracks. "Heero's going to wonder why I have come to his land, and how..."  
  
"Make something up." Dorothy interrupted, "You're not that dense, or are you?" she questioned with a sneer.  
  
Quatre narrowed his eyes. Of all the knights in Relena's court, why had she chosen this witch for his traveling companion? Maybe it was because they were related, but that shouldn't have made a difference. Dorothy's job was to get him to the castle unharmed. She wasn't even supposed to enter the castle, so any knight would have done.  
  
"I know what to say, Dorothy. Trying to get him to drink the potion is the tricky part."  
  
"Honestly, Quatre, you would think one with your looks knows how to seduce a person. Perhaps I should have thrown you down and given you a lesson."  
  
"Try it and I'm afraid I'll have to retaliate..." he said in a cold whisper.  
  
"What was that? You dare to challenge me, Quatre? We shall see how brave you truly are!" Dorothy exclaimed as she turned her horse and drew her sword.  
  
Quatre yanked aside his cloak, snatched up the short knife that was strapped to his belt, and blocked his cousin's down slash. Knowing he couldn't fight her off with his poor excuse of a weapon, he drove his horse backwards with his knees and reached for the vial against his chest. He cut the cord with his knife, and then pulled out the stopper.  
  
"All I need to do is splash you with this, Dorothy, and we'll see how you look in green!"  
  
Dorothy froze in place. With wide eyes, she backed into the bushes on the other side off the path. Her fear seemed to affect even her horse. The beast reared, its hooves pedaling the air. Dorothy's hand slipped off the reins, and with a cry she tumbled to the ground.   
  
"Hold on, Quatre! Mercy, I beg of you!" she cried, rolling onto her hands and knees. "Don't change me into a frog!"  
  
Quatre looked at Dorothy from high above his horse. "Mercy? I know you wouldn't have shown me any; be gone before I change my mind," he replied in a calm voice. "Go before I change you into the miserable creature you truly are."  
  
"Close the vial," she begged using her horse's tail to scramble to her feet. Panting, she edged behind her horse to use its body as a shield. "Please, Quatre!"  
  
Making no move to obey her, Quatre held the vial with a white knuckled hand. "Go, cousin. I don't need your bad attitude. I'll find my own way to Wing."  
  
"But the queen said..."  
  
"The queen said I was to go kill a man. She didn't say anything about you, so you may go...now!"  
  
Dorothy made one last attempt to discourage him, but when Quatre only sat on his horse and studied her, she mounted and rode off down the trail. Over her shoulder she called to him, "The day will come when I'll get you, Quatre! I swear upon all that is holy; I'll get you!"  
  
Quatre sat like a statue until the sound off hoof beats could no longer be heard. He relaxed and pushed the stopper back into the vial. After retying the cord around his neck, he sheathed his knife. Quatre wished he remembered to bring a sword instead of his little dagger. He never was one for fighting, but if needed be he was fairly ok handling a sword.  
  
For the rest of the morning he traveled north contemplating the sights. By afternoon he reached a river. From high above, crystal clear water splashed down into the rushing stream. His eyes surveyed the area and spotted a tent. Raising his voice over the noise of the falls, he called out towards the tent. When no one came out, he dismounted and led his horse to the open door way. It was empty.  
  
Half disappointed and half relieved, he stepped through the doorway to look for food since Dorothy had galloped off with the provisions. He found nothing but a tattered cloth stretched across the back for a wall.  
  
Growing hungrier by the minute, he took off his cloak and unsaddled his horse tying it near a clump of grass. He remembered a long time ago when his father taught him how to set snares for small game; he was positive he could catch his own supper. Quatre pulled some string out of his pack and set out along side the stream.   
  
Within fifteen minutes he found rabbit tracks crisscross the path. He cut three long switches from a tree and bound them into a spring snare, tied a loop in one end of the binding string, and covered his work with dry leaves. Then he found a hiding place and waited.  
  
Suddenly there was a sound like distant thunder and the ground quaked beneath Quatre's feet. The sound became clearer; it was hooves! Had Dorothy come after him? Was she coming to seek her revenge upon him now despite his mission? Could it be someone else?  
  
He couldn't really see through the trees, but he heard the hoof beats coming closer, and the brush wasn't thick enough to hide him well. Quatre wasn't taking any chances; he dashed towards the river, crossed towards the other side and crouched behind the trunk of a fir tree. The boughs fanned downward and concealed him in shadow. Dorothy wouldn't be able to see him.  
  
Quatre could hear the hoof beats pound the ground like war drums. Now he could hear there was more than one horse. That most defiantly ruled out Dorothy, but that meant he had to deal with more than one person. He strained his eyes to see. All of a sudden silver and gold flashed through the trees, then a warrior on a black warhorse burst through the path. Behind him rode six other riders.  
  
Barely forty feet away from Quatre's hiding place, the leader snapped one gauntleted fist into the air and dragged his stallion to a halt. The riders skidded to a standstill in a great cloud of dust. Quatre prayed that his snare would go unnoticed.  
  
With catlike swiftness, the leader dismounted. As he glanced around he unclasped a silvery wolf skin mantle over his right shoulder. His chain mail swung against his thighs as he tossed his mantle over a tree limb. He didn't bother to take off his winged helmet. Light glittered off his smooth bronze skin, making him look forged of sunlight.  
  
Quatre sucked in his breath and held it. The leader grabbed his horse's bridle and led it to the river. He stepped right into the rushing stream, but stopped right before his chain mail touched the water. Quatre wanted to jump right up and run away, but they were so close to him that he could smell the warhorse's breath. Quatre forced himself to keep totally still, hoping the other couldn't see deep into the shadows.  
  
Then the warrior looked up and seemed to stare straight at Quatre. From either side of his nose guard his fierce, glittering eyes penetrated the darkness. Quatre thought those cold eyes were penetrating his very soul. He was a Viking, no doubt about that. Strong, chiseled features and of course the eyes, dark blue as an icy lake at twilight. This man was his enemy, yet all Quatre wanted to do was surrender himself to those strong arms. Shivering in every limb, Quatre dug his fingers in the ground. The Viking continued to stare for a few moments, then his eyes traveled on. * Yes! He didn't spot me at all! Bless mother earth and all the woodland creatures! *   
  
The Viking left his steed and waded out of the water, while the others led their own horse to the river. Quatre observed them quietly from his hiding place as their leader stood watching from the path, arms folded across his mighty chest.   
  
To Quatre's surprise, there were two women in the group, a dazzling coffee eyed brunette, and the other with short, blue-hue hair that fell over her dark colored eyes. * Could these women be prisoners? No it couldn't be. They are wearing armor and hold weapons. Wait...are they warriors? These barbarians force woman to fight as well? *  
  
Quatre could see the other four were men. The tall lanky one was silent as he petted his stallion, and a fall of auburn hair fell over his face, concealing one of his beautiful emerald eyes. Another had long chestnut brown hair that was kept in a braid; violet orbs gleamed with enthusiasm as he chatted with his companions. The third one ignored the braided one; his black almond shaped eyes and glossy raven hair, which was kept in a short ponytail, reflected the afternoon light. The last one had long free-flowing blond locks and pure blue eyes; he seemed to be the oldest out of all of them.   
  
The black warhorse was the first to lift its head and trot back to the path. It pressed its dripping muzzle to its master's neck. The warrior patted the beast's neck, and then crouched down to examine its hooves. Quatre watched the leader lift each massive hoof as though it weighed no more than a feather. He didn't need to guess the power the warrior held over a sword either.  
  
The Viking dropped the last hoof, straightened, put on his wolf skin mantle, and clapped his hands. Before the others could react, he swung himself over the saddle and galloped down the trial. With a great deal of splashing and a few curses, the riders hurried out of the river and raced after him. In a few moments the forest was peaceful again.   
  
Immediately, Quatre bolted out of his hiding spot and slid down the bank to the water. He jumped and splashed across, then ran like the wind. His horse jerked in alarm when Quatre rushed back to the camp he set up. Gasping for air, he put on his cloak then he hurled the blankets and saddle on to the horse's back. He knew it was dangerous riding with night fast approaching, but he didn't dare to stay with Vikings all about. He stood better chance on horseback than sitting here like a duck.  
  
Maybe he was too rash to chase Dorothy away. He couldn't possibly fight each and every warrior all the way to Wing. Could he? Remembering the look in that one Viking's eyes chilled him to the bone. * I hope I don't run into him again, any of them. With men and even women like that fighting against Sank, no wonder Relena is losing! *  
  
A new stronger desire to reach Wing flared inside Quatre. He had to vanquish Heero. Relena believed that his death would break the spirit of Khushrenada and his other men. Changing Heero into a frog then squishing him beneath his foot would save his country; he would do it without any regret. The vial felt like hot iron against his chest.  
  
* Lord Yuy all you need to do is drink only a spoonful. Just one spoonful and all will be over. * Quatre thought.  
  
"I see you've come to spy," came a deep voice from behind him.   
  
Quatre spun on his heel. Silently the Viking stepped out of the shadows twenty feet away. It was the leader from before, but now he only wore a sleeveless shirt and black leather pants. Golden bands encircled his wrist and biceps and a silver pendant hung from his neck.  
  
* I was seen after all! He must have seen the snare and my tracks! * "You must think yourself very cunning, Viking," was all Quatre could come up with. * Oh that was real smooth, Quatre. Keep it up and he may think you're too stupid to be a threat. *  
  
Quatre wasn't answered immediately. The Viking was to busy tracing Quatre's curves with his eyes. Quatre was tempted to draw his dagger, but his target had to come closer first. Besides, if the blade didn't convince the other to leave him alone, there was always the potion. He didn't want to waste it though; it was for Heero. Guess the dagger was his only choice.  
  
The horse whined loudly. Quatre wondered if he could cut the horse's reins and ride off before the Viking could reach him. "What do you want, Viking?"  
  
"To look at you will do for now. In all my travels I've never seen such a male of such beauty, although you are on the scrawny side."  
  
"Who the hell are you calling a scrawny?!" snapped Quatre. His one peeve was to be mistaken as a weak person. "I won't be treated as some helpless maiden!"  
  
"I'll treat you the way I see fit," the Viking said in a tone matching the sudden frost in his eyes. "You are a Sank come to spy on us. Do you know the punishment?"  
  
"I haven't come to spy!" * What do I say to make him leave? * "I was hunting game with my companion and became lost."  
  
"Oh, such a sad story. At first I thought you'd come here on purpose, but now I see it was a lack of wit typical to Sanks.   
  
Quatre boiled with anger. "You can't claim even a scrap of wit, sir, but only the craftiness common among thieves! Now get out of my camp!"  
  
Instead of leaving, the Viking jumped over the boulder in front of him. Caught off guard, Quatre didn't think to draw his knife or mount his horse. Instead, he acted on pure instinct. He plunged into the river, and with all his might he tried to cross to the other side. Unfortunately, Quatre's cloak was weighing him down, allowing the current to sweep him off his feet and down the raging stream.  
  
The cold, swift current carried him far beyond the other's grasp. Quatre's cloak twisted around his legs and trapped his arms. The harder he fought to pull it off, the more entangled Quatre became. The torrent shoved him over a ledge and underwater. Pinning him against a rock, he couldn't move, couldn't breathe, and couldn't escape his fate.  
  
Suddenly, he felt hard hands move under his arms and legs. With a thrust of powerful arms, the Viking jerked him out of the river. Quatre was laid in the ferns along the bank and stripped of his soaked cloak. The Viking said nothing as he allowed Quatre to cough and gasp for air.  
  
"You really are a stupid boy," said the warrior when Quatre caught his breathe.  
  
"Leave me alone!" Quatre cried, trying to sit up.  
  
The Viking draped his arm over Quatre's chest, holding him against the ground. "Leave you alone when you'll doubtlessly drown yourself? It's so rare to find a beautiful sprite in the forest though."  
  
The Viking's eyes were the deepest blue Quatre had ever seen, almost the color of midnight. His skin was dark as well as smooth, and short chocolate brown hair went wild about his face. He looked like a seafarer. Again Quatre felt the need to surrender himself to him. Without effort, the warrior dampened Quatre's will to fight.   
  
* What is he doing to me? * Quatre's mind raced. * What sort of magic does he possess? I can't fight him...I don't want to. *  
  
"Why have you come to the forest, boy?"  
  
"That's not your concern," replied Quatre.  
  
"You wouldn't speak with such venom when the lord tries your case. Perhaps I can persuade him to be merciful."  
  
"Who is your lord?" Quatre demanded, but he only received a grin in reply. He knew the Viking was toying with him. "Where are your men?"  
  
"So interested? Do you want to dance with them under the sheets as well?"  
  
"I'll dance under no one's sheets, you self-centered idiot! Get off me!"  
  
To Quatre's surprise, the Viking swung to his feet and stood looking down at him. "My men rode on; they have more important matters to attend to. I need no help capturing a spying Sank.  
  
* So we are alone? I don't have to worry about running into the others. This improves my chances for escaping this one. Quatre thought as he reached for his knife. What the...? The sheath is empty?! *  
  
"You looking for this, fair one?" the Viking asked, opening his hand. Quatre's dagger looked like a child's toy in his palm.  
  
"Give it back thief!" Quatre growled.  
  
"So you can stab me?"  
  
"So I can protect myself." Quatre stood on shaky knees and winced at the pain in his left ankle.  
  
Noticing the look of discomfort, the Viking stared at Quatre, and then asked, "Shall I rub you until your pain fades into memory, river nymph?" Quatre squirmed under the intense gaze.  
  
"Go away," he said in a weak voice.  
  
"And leave you to spy? I don't think so." He stepped close and ran his fingertips up Quatre's arm. Quatre's pulse leaped at his gentle touch. "You shall come with me to pay the price of your foolishness."  
  
Rage broke the sensual spell over Quatre. Like a leopard, Quatre lunged for his throat, but his opponent was quick to react. The Viking caught his wrist and pinned his arms behind his back. Quatre felt himself having to step closer against the Vikings chest as he felt a hand slide down his buttocks. Quatre felt warm breath on his neck and quivered.  
  
"You belong to me now, fair one," he whispered to Quatre. Running his fingers through Quatre's hair, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against his neck. "Only to me..." 


	3. I'm a Fool, Plain, and Simple

Quatre: Nooo...I've been captured!  
  
Angel:   
Gomen, Quatre-san...it gets better. I should say there is a tad of lime in this next part...again this is like a re-incarnation of Roxi Ashe's book Spell Weaver...I'm just molding things to make the story line better. I suppose you could say...ah well...you guys like it right?   
  
Eto ne...I'm sorry for not getting this chapter up soon. I actually intended to have this up a few months ago, but school, my Yu-Gi-Oh yaoi RPG, and a new found love for Fushigi Yuugi took up most of my spare time. It was either a short, crappy chapter with no real plot, or the wait...not a bad choice, ne? Oh yes, I do realize that Quatre Heero are leaning towards out of character, but give me a little leeway, right? I have a point! ^_^  
  
I know Quatre isn't puny, nor his Heero that perverted...or is he?! Actually, something to keep in mind is that Quatre has lived a plush, court life, while Heero is a warlord. I'm basing their strengths according to the story life, so you'd actually expect Quatre to kind of, sort of, be a smidge weaker. HOWEVER, it doesn't stay that way for long, believe me! Just give me a chance! You can expect, um, oh I say, twenty-six chapters, so just let the story meld, okay?  
  
(Looks at Trowa)  
  
Trowa-san, can you announce the next chapter?  
  
Trowa: Hai, the next chapter...  
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Enchanter  
By - Angel Inoshi  
  
CHAPTER THREE -  
I'm a Fool, Plain and Simple.  
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Quatre fought the iron grip, but his head was only pulled back farther and those warm lips graze across his neck. Despite his predicament, he remembered the vial dangling from the cord around his neck and feared that the Viking would take it from him. Instead, the Viking's hands made their way down Quatre's chest, and his gentle fingertips brushed over of a soft nub of flesh through Quatre's wet shirt.  
  
Quatre's mind whirled, forgetting all about the potion. * What am I going to do? Is he actually...he couldn't actually want to...no! I refuse to be put through this kind of humiliation! * Quatre was trained from childhood to abhor Vikings, and this one would not be treated any differently. With all his might, Quatre pulled out of the other's grip, and before his opponent could recover he landed a hard punch to the Viking's left cheek.  
  
The Viking stumbled back a bit, then lifted his bowed head; eyes flashed with...amusement? A smirk crept over the fierce features. He stared hard at Quatre for several minutes, and then muttered something in Danish. Quatre stood rigid, anticipating a sword to skewer him any second now, but it never came.  
  
" Not a bad punch for a small thing." his gaze traveled up and down Quatre's body, "I also take it you are a virgin?" the Viking asked bluntly.  
  
* Just like a Viking to ask something like that. Couldn't he tell from my reaction? What in the world is he thinking? * A shiver ran down Quatre's spine as the other again began to draw closer. With no weapon, if the Viking tried to grab him again, he'd be a sitting duck. He'd just have to use the potion...so what if the potion was for Heero Yuy...screw the mission! He wouldn't allow this barbarian to further humiliate him and go unpunished for his actions. Quatre grasped the vial and pushed at the cork with his thumb. However, before Quatre could loosen it, the Viking picked him up, threw him over his shoulder, and set off. Quatre kicked and pounded his fist against the man's back, but the Viking strode on as though Quatre hurt him no more than an insect might.  
  
The veil of night dropped over the forest, yet the Viking walked on as though he possessed cat's eyes. Several minutes later Quatre heard the waterfall. Quatre was set down in front of the tent where he earlier camped.  
  
"Your horse ran away," said the Viking breaking the silence.  
  
"Your men probably stole her."  
  
"Che, that nag's not fit even for you, Sank." The Viking put his fingers to his lips and whistled. His steed trotted out of the woods, neighing at Quatre, and switching its tail.  
  
"Zero, be silent." The Viking commanded. He began to unsaddle the beast, and Quatre saw his now doffed armor tied to the saddle. "Go into the tent and make yourself comfortable, boy." The saddle thudded to the ground.  
  
"Comfortable? How can I be comfortable when I'm held captive? Leave me alone!" But even as he ranted at the other, Quatre realized his childishness. What good would it do to argue with the brute? He was cold, wet, with no horse, and couldn't even see his own hand in front of his face. * I'll try to escape when the moon id full *  
  
"You are easy to read," the Viking said drawing Quatre out of his thoughts. "The moon will not help you. You are my prisoner, and there is no escape from me."  
  
"And what are you planning to do with me?" Quatre replied with venom. It was a stupid question, but he wanted to have a ray of hope. What else would a Viking do with a captured enemy, but kill him or sell him as a slave...oh forgot that this guy has an attraction to men.  
  
The Viking took a long time to answering. Quatre strained his eyes to see his expression, but he could only see the gleam of those cruel eyes. Suddenly, he felt strong fingers under his chin, lifting his face.   
  
"You are a Sank. There may be some use for you other than the obvious one," he chuckled, raking his eyes over Quatre's body. "Now go in the tent as I commanded, unless you want to test what mercy I have left for your cursed race."  
  
Quatre snatched away from his touch, pushed aside the tattered cloth door, felt his way inside and settled down on the dirt floor. His teeth chattered violently as he heard the Viking move about outside. The sound of steel ringing against stone came to his ears, and then a crackle followed by a glitter of light announced the presence of a fire. By it's light he saw that the Viking had donned his chain mail. It sparkled as he bent to blow on the fire while adding tinder, then small sticks, at last a large branch.  
  
The Viking looked inside the tent. "Take off your clothes..."  
  
"What the Hades?! NO! Unlike you, I personally have no interest in men. "  
  
"I mean to dry them, Sank. Unless you feel like freezing."  
  
"Oh...turn your back, and don't peek at me!"  
  
"Hn...there is nothing you have that I don't have, so no. Also, you might want to attack me again, and this time I may not fight you off. There is more than one way to keep warm on cold nights."  
  
The Viking turned and sat down with his back to the doorway. Quatre angrily slipped out of his clothing and tossed it outside. Then he hunched over and drew his knees to his chest. Wet blond locks plastered against his face as he bowed his head in pure exhaustion.  
  
"Here, I don't intend to let you sit there cold and naked."  
  
Quatre looked up in dismay as the Viking draped a wolf skin mantle over his shoulders, and quickly darted out of the tent. * What? Why is he showing me kindness? One minute he's seducing me like I was some tavern girl, the next he acts like we just met. *  
  
"I'll sleep by the fire," the Viking said. "Your clothes should be dry by morning. Sleep well."  
  
Quatre held his tongue. The less he spoke to the barbarian, the better! Damn Viking...who in Hades did he think he was?! Despite wrapping the wolf skin tighter against himself, he still felt the breezes cooling touch. After awhile, he carefully poked his head outside the doorway and saw the Viking's dark shape stretched between the fire and tent. Beyond the fire, Zero tossed his head while snorting at him. If the Viking was fast asleep, he could quickly dress and steal the warhorse. Let the stupid Viking find his own steed and give chase if he dared.  
  
Quatre tiptoed outside and edged cautiously around the still figure. The Viking was only a few inches away; his slow breaths glided over silken parted lips and into the night air. Quatre held the mantle close in fear if it should brush past the Vikings face and awake him. Yes! He passed him and was home free! Suddenly a hand shot out, grasped Quatre's ankle, and flipped him on to the dirt. Quatre did manage to kick the other's face, but it was pointless. Within a few moments, the Viking pinned Quatre down with his weight.  
  
"Curse you, Viking! Why can't you just leave me alone! I wasn't trying to do anything!" Quatre lied between clenched teeth.  
  
The Viking's face was placid. Quatre didn't know what to expect next. Perhaps he could over power the other, then mount the horse before the brute knew what hit him. However, Quatre's thoughts were cut short when the Viking's eyes locked on the vial that lay against his chest.  
  
"What is this, Sank," the cur asked as he held it between his fingers.  
  
"Nothing..."  
  
"An amulet, perchance?"  
  
* Would he take it as his own if I say yes? Don't Vikings also believe in luck? Maybe this one collects good-luck charms. Oh, by the stars, please don't let him steal it from me! * If he denied its value, then the Viking would most certainly know he was lying, so what could he do?  
  
Taking a chance, he replied, "Yes, it's an amulet. My sister gave it to me to ward off enemies."  
  
"Like me?" the Viking whispered.  
  
"Yes, like you...but I fear it doesn't work," Quatre snapped bitterly.   
  
The Viking smiled without mirth and released Quatre, who immediately scurried to the other side of the fire. Trying not to look at the other, Quatre settled on examining the night sky, which was dotted by glittering stars. A sigh escaped his lips, and his stomach began to rumble.  
  
"You're hungry."  
  
"..........."  
  
"Zero destroyed your rabbit snare. I owe you food," he stood and went to his saddle. "Here, it's dried venison. It isn't much, but my men and I don't stop to hunt game when we're hunting Sanks."  
  
It was a horrible thing to say. The barbarian wanted to distress him on purpose, Quatre could see it in his eyes. The Viking dropped the piece of meat into his lap, but Quatre wanted to refuse it. Anything that came from the murderous pillager is bound to be poison.  
  
"So you were raiding?" questioned Quatre trying to distract himself.  
  
"Eh?," the other looked up, "We were patrolling, if that's what you mean. Someone has to keep you damned Sanks off our lands."  
  
"Your lands?! You claim the queen's forest as your own? I shouldn't be surprised, for years Vikings have stolen our land!" Quatre spoke recklessly. "Stealing is part of you murderous way of life."  
  
"It's been many years since we took anything, Sank. This land is ours, and we sustain it."  
  
"Your breed sustains itself on other's misery!"  
  
"Ha! You are too ignorant to know our history!"  
  
"I know enough to name you thieves that you are! How often you swept down from the north upon Sank," Quatre's voice cracked, "to enslave us and seize our lands?!"  
  
"And what of Relena's taste for blood?!" The Viking straightened, tension evident in his body. He was terrible in the moonlight, his brows drawn over wolfish eyes shadowed with pain and anger. "Did your queen not attack us, her neighbors, twelve years ago? Did she not drench the earth with our blood?"  
  
"It was to secure the borders of Sank," Quatre stated unsurely, "to free our country from you, a tribute too grievous to be borne!"  
  
"You do not know what you speak of, Sank."  
  
"I know all that I need to know about your leader, Treize Khushrenada! My father told me all about him!"  
  
"Your father? Where is this prince of men now, when you need him? Tell me, is he afraid to face me, or does he not care what befalls you?"  
  
"You," venom bathed his voice, "son of a sea devil, how dare you speak of him so! My sister and I buried him in the ground not even a year ago. He fell under the ax of a Viking beast like you."  
  
"Maybe it was I that slain him," the Viking said, leaning over the fire; his eyes blazing inferno.  
  
"Maybe it will be I that slays you," Quatre shot back, "I could die happy then."  
  
"And you would die if you tried, Sank. Or would you try you try to kill me with that sharp tongue of yours?"  
  
Hatred sparked between the two, sharp and bright. Without thinking, Quatre grabbed the vial around his neck and clenched it tightly.  
  
"Your amulet? You would kill me with your amulet?" He threw back his head and laughed. "That I would like to see. Go ahead, try it," he spread his arms wide and waited.  
  
The leather of the cord bit into the back of Quatre's neck, bringing him back into reality. What was he doing? He couldn't waste the potion on this wretch. Shaking with ire, he unclenched his hand and stood up. The Viking didn't move an inch as he watched the other boy through narrowed eyes. Quatre yanked his damp clothes off from where they were drying and stomped past the Viking into the hut. Not caring if he was being watched, he dropped the wolf skin and pulled on his clothes.  
  
"What is your name, Sank?" the Viking asked looking into the hut.  
  
Quatre brushed past him.  
  
"I asked your name, or do you also lack manners?"  
  
"Quatre, Lord Quatre of Sandrock to you," he spat.  
  
"Qua-tre," the name rolled off his tongue like it was his to bestow. "What is it's meaning?"  
  
"That is none of your concern...what is your name?"  
  
"That is none of your concern. Where is this Sandrock, your home?"  
  
"On another world it seems," he sighed stepping past the other again. "When will you let me go?.  
  
Suddenly, without warning, the Viking uncoiled from the ground and stood listening. He stayed that way for a moment then dashed towards Zero and threw a saddle on the beast's back. "Quatre, get on the horse quickly!"  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Are you deaf? Wolves!" with that, the Viking grabbed a branch from the fire, vaulted into the saddle and pulled Quatre up behind him. "Fly, Zero!"  
  
The great warhorse plunged onto the shadowy path. The moon slid behind the clouds, casting away all light but the torch. Cold wind rattled the branches and moaned through the forest, or was it the howl of wolves?  
  
"Where are they?" Quatre murmured in the Viking's ear. "I can't see a thing?"  
  
"They're coming," Urging the horse at a greater speed, the Viking twisted in his seat to glance behind them.  
  
Quatre gripped the other's waist tightly and also spared a look behind, however, the glow of the flame made their surrounding that much darker. Then, he saw a huge body spring onto the path next to them, but before Quatre could shout a warning, the Viking smacked the wolf with the flaming branch. The creature yelped and shrunk back. Quatre took hold of the torch, while the Viking unsheathed his sword.  
  
"Here they come! Get ready, Quatre!"  
  
The predators ran swiftly and silently out of the darkness, their fangs and eyes glittering. Quatre tried to hunch low to give the Viking as much sword room as possible.  
  
"You bring me bad luck, Sank."  
  
"Me? What did I do?" Quatre retorted as he swung the torch when a wolf leaped at them.  
  
There were eight of them, the hungry, savage beasts. A deadly howl swept around them, and Quatre wondered why they still perused them.   
  
"They've gone mad," the Viking answered his thoughts. "what spell have you cast, Enchanter?"  
  
"Don't lay the blame at my feet! They're trying to eat me too!"  
  
Zero began to slow. Foam flew from his mouth and his haunches were so sweaty that Quatre could hardly keep his seat. Suddenly, Zero turned a sharp left and without warning, Quatre lost his grip and hit the ground hard, losing the torch. Immediately the Viking pivoted and slashed two wolves that leapt toward Quatre. He jumped out of the saddle and tossed him on Zero's back.  
  
"Go!"  
  
Instead of fleeing, Quatre turned the horse around and rode straight through the pack of wolves that surround them. Zero reared upwards and Quatre held out his hand to help the Viking up. Once the Viking's arms wrapped around his own waist, Quatre rammed his heels and dodged around the trees. The wolves pursued only a few moments more then let them be, their will finally broken.  
  
Quatre let Zero slow down when he knew they where out of danger and sighed in relief. He leaned back on the Viking's chest in pure exhaustion, while the other guided the horse from behind. Quatre was just too tired to protest against the protective arm that was around his body. It was a miracle that all three of them were alive.  
  
"Good Zero," Quatre whispered, "brave steed."  
  
"Quatre, why didn't you run when you had the chance?" the Viking whispered against his ear.  
  
Quatre set his jaw tightly when he remembered exactly whom he saved. He gave no answer and truthfully had none. He was a fool, plain and simple.   
  
  
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Angel:   
About time I got this out, right? You have to admit it's a long chapter, though, right? See quality over quantity!  
  
Heero: Why am I still referred to as the Viking?  
  
Angel: Cause Quatre doesn't know you yet?  
  
Heero: But everyone else knows me! Even the readers!  
  
Angel: Uh...because it might not even be you?  
  
Heero: ...........  
  
Angel: ^_^ 


	4. Author's Note

Author's Note

Konnichiwa Everyone!

Inoshi speaking here! I want to send an apology to everyone who has been following this fanfic and has literally been waiting years for it to update or even move **:bows deeply:** Gomen ne! Gomen ne! See scratches back of head...this is what happens when you randomly get caught up in other fandoms and sort of forgetting about the beloved Gundam Wing fandom sweatdrops.

See, at first it was Yu-Gi-Oh that distracted me, then Fruits Basket, then Kyou Kara Maou...and then finally Naruto. Needless to say, I am in Naruto mode, but have been trying to balance out the urge to draw, write fanfics or play video games. **:blinks:** Maaaaaaaah...Kingdom Hearts II, Wild Arms Alter Code F, Star Ocean and Wild Arms 3 has been also been keeping me occupied...along with endless amounts of schoolwork.

Yet, this is summer and I'm determined to tie up loose ends. You see...I do love to read fanfics and I know what it's like to have to wait and wait for updates...especially for such a rare pairing. I mean I know I curse when I get into a fanfic then all of a sudden...bam nada! LOL my liking is if this fanfic is good and can keep going without loosing my interest...the longer the better. Yet, sympathizing with authors...RL can catch up and you sort of drift away.

Okay, I have a point somewhere **:grins sheepishly:** ahem; I am planning on finishing this fanfic. However, my writing style has changed from what it was a couple years back, so to be honest I need to rewrite chapters 1-3 in order to make the fanfic flow better for future chapters. The second order of business is for me to actually sit down and watch Gundam Wing again. **:thinks:** I mean the series seems so far away now and I don't feel in touch with the character's persona any more...so we must work on that chuckles.

Yes, this will continue to be a 1x4/4x1 fanfic...afterall...Quatre is love and deserves it! Anyways...bows please put up with me a little longer! Thank you for your time and consideration!


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